New York Gives Opera Idol His Tsar Turn

In Town to Play Boris Godunov at the Met, German Bass René Pape Prepares to Rule the City—and Find Its Best Steakhouse

By

Pia Catton

Updated Oct. 11, 2010 12:01 a.m. ET

He smokes. He drinks. He talks about working out (but doesn't do it). And he's got the ego to match his prodigious talent. René Pape might just be the quintessential New Yorker—even though he's German.

"The Met is my second musical home," the opera star said recently.

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René Pape as the title character in the Metropolitan Opera's production of 'Boris Godunov.'
Nick Heavican/Metropolitan Opera

On Monday, this dapper 46-year-old will trade his Etro jacket and Montblanc man-bracelet for the garb of a 17th-century Russian tsar when he takes on the title role of "Boris Godunov" in the Metropolitan Opera's new production.

"It's a role you want to create onstage once you have reached a certain age," Mr. Pape (pronounced PAP-uhh) said. "I couldn't do that role in the beginning of my 30s. Physically, it's possible. You need to have a bit of life experience."

Indeed, it would be hard for a baby-faced upstart to credibly lead an opera that the Met's general manager, Peter Gelb, has called "the greatest Russian epic, other than 'War and Peace.'"

(Here's my minimalist synopsis: greed, throne, fear, death.)

Directed by Steven Wadsworth (because Peter Stein didn't want to be vexed by airport security), this "Boris Godunov" is almost entirely the 1875 version by Modest Mussorgsky. Mr. Pape, however, will be singing the monologue from the composer's 1869 version.

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René Pape with a cigarette in the opera's publicity image.
Mathias Bothor

Why the cut and paste? And who cares? It's a bit of backstage back-and-forth that reveals why one production can be better than another.

Mr. Pape agreed to sing the role in the Met's new production prior to the naming of a director. "I talked with Peter Gelb," he said, "and he asked me which [version] I prefer. I said: 'The one I know.' I had to study two Wotans, and there was no time to study a completely new Boris." (Mr. Pape sang Wotan in "Das Rheingold" at La Scala last season and will perform in "Die Walküre" next season there, as well.)

When Mr. Stein initially signed on to direct, the situation changed—more than once. "Peter Stein wanted to do the long version, the five-act version," Mr. Pape continued. "So I was going to study it. Then Peter Stein walked out. So then we found a new combination."

Surely, Mr. Pape would have learned the unfamiliar text and performed it professionally. But this performance, under Mr. Wadsworth's watch, may be richer because he can sing the version that he knows well. The upshot: same story, same composer, more comfortable singer.

Another new aspect of the Met's "Boris Godunov" comes in the last act—in a scene titled "Revolution," but which Mr. Pape referred to as "the Polish Act." And with that, he has a quibble. "I love the death scene. It's so full of emotions. In the old version, the opera stops there. Here you have a full other act. Which is ok, but I like to be the last one seen onstage," he said jovially.

Clearly, the man understands showbiz. But he also applies that thinking to more than the big finish. He's committed to the theatrical side of opera performance, as well as to precision in language; he employs coaches for every language in which he sings, except German.

"I want to be as good as possible in every language. Even if you sing Russian in America, you always have somebody who speaks this language, especially in New York," he said. "I do Russian repertory in Russia, Italian in Italy and French in France, which is a big honor for a foreigner."

Where does he find the quality of the music criticism the best? "They love me here in New York—so the writing is good," he said with a mellifluous Faustian bellow.

While Mr. Pape appreciates the vigor of American audiences, he also couldn't help but mention how quickly they run for the exits. "In the states, they are enthusiastic, but they leave very fast—because of the parking or the last subway or whatever."

The rush leads to one pet peeve. "The only thing I don't like, and it happens in Europe, is they're not waiting until the piece is finished. On the last bar or chord, they're clapping. It's part of the piece. It doesn't make sense to start clapping 10 seconds early."

But Mr. Pape spends enough time in New York to understand the noise, traffic and all-around intensity. When he's here for an extended period, he rents an apartment on the Upper West Side, where one of his two sons (ages 18 and 20) will visit him this season. He's a connoisseur of the city's steakhouses and says Fiorello's has the best cheesecake. On a night off with friends, he likes to head to Café Wah? or Carnegie Club, of which he says: "It's like a library… and you can smoke inside!"

Singer or not, he's not shy about stopping the conversation to pop out for a smoke break. And like all smokers, he's got his tricks when he's on the job. "I always find a staircase to hide in," he said.

Evidently, he's not the only person in his operation who has a complicated relationship with his smoking. Among his publicity photos is a shot of him with a lit cigarette in hand and an ashtray—plus the smile of someone doing something he shouldn't. The same photo appears in his recent album "Gods, Kings & Demons," but the offending items have been airbrushed out—and the smile loses something of its naughty flair.

Though he's open to discussing most things, Mr. Pape neatly deflected two topics. He won't gossip about people in the classical-music world: "That's not my cup of tea." And when asked about his fitness routine—after consuming a martini and a beer: "Next question!"

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